


A Spice All Her Own

by Pixelatrix



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7237189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixelatrix/pseuds/Pixelatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Salvadora ‘Sal’ Shepard had never intended to join the Alliance.  Her absentee godfather, Steven Hackett, had given her enough of a view of it to make her want to avoid his fate.  Yet, after tragedy strikes, she finds herself thriving as a marine with the help of seven friends from boot camp.  Sally’s Soldiers become a force to be reckoned with amongst the Alliance—and maybe they can save the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Spice All Her Own

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU take on the Mass Effect story. It starts pre-ME and goes through to ME3. I’ve changed quite a bit of canon for this story. A massive thank you to my betas and to Artistically Amber for her amazing artwork for the banner!
> 
> Face References in the end notes.

Salvadora Shepard had grown up happy and loved in her grandparents’ house in Buenos Aires.  Her father had been an Alliance admiral who died during the First Contact War, a day before her third birthday.  Her mother had died the day after her sixth birthday in a freak hiking accident.  Sal had grown to hate her birthdays.

Her grandparents ran a food stall in one of the poorer barrios in the city.  They made spicy beef empanadas from a recipe that had been passed down through the women in her grandmother’s family for generations.  Sal could make them with her eyes closed by the time she was thirteen.

While her school friends played in the afternoon, Sal often worked long hours helping with the street stall.  She loved the art of selling her grandfather had taught her.  He could talk anyone into trying one of his wife’s empanadas.

What little free time available, Sal spent at a dance studio learning the tango, samba and cuarteto.  She loved the tango in particular.  It had a life to it that she could immerse herself in completely.  Some nights she danced long past her curfew.

At the age of fourteen, Sal had her life all figured out.  After fishing up high school in a few years, it would be on to University to study dance and theatre.  She could work at the stall to earn enough money to pay for everything required.  Her grandparents had saved up a little for her tuition, but not much.

They did their best though they never seemed to believe it was enough.

Did any parent (or grandparent) think they’d done everything they could? 

Her plans came crashing down on her on her fifteenth birthday.  A local gang had set fire to their family food stall, and then to their apartment.  Her grandparents had been inside at the time.

Sal came home from school to find everything gone.  Her home. Her family. Her clothes. Everything.  It had all gone up in flames.  She stood outside of the smouldering building for an hour before a friend came to drag her home.

It could’ve all gone downhill from there. 

_Should’ve._

It should’ve all gone downhill from there.

Grief faded into panic at being a teenager without any living relatives.  Her friend’s parents connected her with the local child services.   She had no intentions of being bounced from house to house.

Skipping off school for the day, Sal decided to head to one of the large local gardens to clear her mind.  She sat on a bench near a fountain to think.  The funerals had been yesterday, and today a social worker would come to see her again.

To take her away.

A quick glance at her omni-tool told her that only four hours were left.  She needed a plan.  One adults couldn’t argue her out of, or poke too many holes in.

The only item Sal had saved from the wreckage had been her grandmother’s recipes.  _Great, I can make empanadas. I’m saved._ She rolled her eyes at her own ridiculousness.  Could another street stall really be the answer? 

It would make credits, sure, but would it be enough to keep her from foster care or being adopted.   Even if it did, would the adults around her let her play grown-up? The odds were definitely _not_ in her favour on this one.

“Salvadora?”

Sal shut her omni-tool down quickly then glared suspiciously at the man now standing in front of her. “I don’t talk to strangers.”

“Sally Shepard.”

Her eyes narrowed at the nickname that she hadn’t heard in years. “Capta…no, I see, Admiral Hackett?”

“What happened to Uncle Steven?”

“No idea, he never has time for the little people of his home, pajero.”  Sal broke into a grin when he glared at the familiar insult. “You can’t complain about my language when you taught it to me.”

 “Taught might be a stretch.” Hackett sat beside her on the bench, tilting the bag in his hand to offer her one of the alfajores within. “I was sorry to hear about your grandparents.  I cared a great deal about them both.  When are you planning on running?”

“What?” She tried to look the picture of innocence, but had to grin when his eyes narrowed. “They’d notice me running.”

“ _Sally.”_

“Stop calling me Sally.” She punched him on the arm.

“Assaulting an officer?”

She whacked him again. “You’re supposed to be my godfather.  You’ve done a shit job so far.”

“ _Salvadora Shepard._ ”

“Well? You have. You don’t even send presents.” Sal took a bite out of the sugary donut in her hand. “Can I stay with you?”

“Sally…”

“See? Shit godfather.”

He handed over the bag of donuts, likely his effort to quiet her down for a second. “I didn’t come here to give you food.”

“Just to shatter my dreams forever?”

“You are so much like your father.  He handled grief the same way, found a way to crack a joke or to deflect it onto someone else.” Hackett wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I didn’t say no.”

Sitting forward so her long, brown hair covered her face, Sal considered briefly the best way to approach this.  She’d had her plans—not good ones—but had them anyway.  It would definitely be easier with her godfather as a guardian.  Social services wouldn’t bother her.

And maybe the pain in her chest would go away slowly.

Emotions ran hot and cold for Sal since the fire.  She could almost pretend nothing had happened for hours at a time, and then it would all hit her at once.  Tears flowed heavily when her walls shattered. 

Fear had carried her for the last few days.  Change.  The unknown.  All the stress of not knowing who to turn to or what would happen next, it had weighed on her shoulders.  She had tried to avoid all of it.

“Sally?” Hackett moved off the bench to crouch in front of her, hands resting on either side of her. “You’ll always have a home with me.  I know what it’s like to lose everyone.  You’re a Shepard. You’re strong.  I have complete faith in your ability to pull through this.  But until you realize it, your Uncle Steven will be right here for you.”

Sal launched herself into his arms, something she hadn’t done since she was very young. “Voy a extrañarlos. Hurts. Mi Corazon esta roto.”

“I know.” He staggered to his feet with her still clutched in his arms and sat on the bench. “You’re heavier than you were at ten.  And it was much easier to fix your bike than your broken heart.”

“Did you just call me fat?” Sal smacked him on the arm when he chuckled. “ _Uncle St even._ ”

He seemed wholly unapologetic. “Shouldn’t you be in school right now?”

“Maybe.”

Shaking his head at her, her godfather stood from the bench once again. He led her out of the garden to a waiting shuttle.  She found herself staring in surprise at the two armed marines waiting patiently beside it. 

“Going up in the world?”

The last time Sal had seen her godfather, he had been a captain in charge of his own ship.  Hackett had clearly earned more than just a new rank.  He ignored her question and ushered her into the vehicle.

“So…any young men (or women) I need to have a chat with? Hmm? You’re old enough to date, right?” Hackett sat beside her in the shuttle, stretching his legs out while his armed guard moved to the front of the vehicle to fly it. “Well?”

“I…” Sal shifted uneasily beside him.  Her grandparents had been _confused_ when the subject of dating had come up in the past.  She didn’t know how Hackett would react. “I’m not really interested in dating.”

“At all?”

“No.” She twisted the hem of her t-shirt in her fingers. “Don’t get the point of it.  Kinda makes me want to vomit the whole dating, kissing thing. I mean, why do people do it?”

He became suddenly uncomfortable. “I am _not_ having this conversation.”

“You started it.”

“Sal.”

Six hours later, Sal stood beside her godfather in the kitchen.  They were making dinner together and talking over the future.  He’d surprised her by seeming honestly interested in her hopes and dreams.

His apartment was large enough for his new ward.  He’d made Sal feel very welcome.  It had been a surprise to see he’d already had a guest room set up for her.

So maybe not such an awful godfather?

The social service agent had told them to expect the guardianship paperwork to go through within a week.  It helped that her grandparents listed Hackett in their wills as a number one choice for guardian.  The meeting had gone on for hours; Sal had dozed off in the middle of it.

_Adults._

Always had too much to say.

The last two hours before heading to his home were spent shopping.   Sal had literally lost everything in the fire, her godfather insisted on replacing all of it.  _Most of it._ Hackett hated shopping and eventually lost his patience.  He ‘d promised everything else could be gotten on the extra-net.

Sal had laughed at him.

_Adults._

For their first meal at _home_ together, Hackett had chosen to make one of his own grandmother’s recipes.  Sal had taken the time to observe the man who had essential become responsible for her.  She’d only ever known him as her Uncle Steven—an abstract figure who only visited maybe once every couple of years.

He sent presents at all the appropriate events, but that was about it.  Sal had no idea what he would be like as a guardian.  She wondered if he’d be overly strict.  Her grandparents had been a little lax on rules because she’d never been tempted to push the envelope.

Night times were definitely the hardest.  Sal would sit on her bed, muffling her tears into a pillow.  She missed her grandparents.

She kept telling herself she would get through this.

Two years went by, dreams of food stalls and dancing slowly morphed into something more.  Sal spent a lot of time around Alliance officers, listening to their stories and seeing the work they did.  She’d grown to greatly respect her godfather.

Respect and desire to emulate.

She talked at length with Hackett about her enlisting.  He hadn’t tried to dissuade her, but had insisted on her volunteering at an Alliance outpost for a month during her summer break before her last year of school.  It had been a life changing experience.

One month had led to a second a year later after her graduation.  Sal had enjoyed working with the marines and colonists. They’d helped to build up part of a new colony. It hadn’t done a thing to change her mind about enlisting.

The best thing that had come out of her summer work was a clearer focus.  Sal had delayed joining up two years.  She wanted a degree under her belt first.

Cramming a four year degree in emergency medical services into two years had required dedication and a lot of effort.  Her godfather had seemed incredibly proud of her hard work.  He’d encouraged her whenever she’d wanted to quit from exhaustion.

When Sal finally stepped out of a shuttle at the Parris Island base for boot camp, she’d graduated in the top five of her class.  She felt accomplished with a firmer foundation under her benefit for achieving her end goal of becoming a combat medic with one of the elite marine insertion units.  They’d been the ones she volunteered withy for several years.

She would do her family name proud, maybe not with pastries as her fifteen-year-old self had dreamed.  This was better.  It would have a longer reach and she would keep telling herself that during each humiliating trek through the mud with yelling drill instructors on her ass.

“They don’t mention this shit in recruitment vids,” Joss Davis muttered.  She’d become a good friend to Sal. They suffered the rigors of boot camp using each other for emotional support. “Remind me to kick the recruiter in the balls the next time I see her.”

Sal had to smother a snicker at the idea of kicking her godfather in a tender spot. “Will do.”

“Something to share Shepard?” Sergeant Daniels crouched down by her head where Sal had been doing push-ups. “Want to do another fifty?”

Sal kept her head firmly facing the dirt and bit her lip to keep even the hint of a smile off her face.   “No, Sir.”

“How about you stop chatting like two silly schoolgirls then?” He pressed his hand on her back to push himself back to his feet.  He seemed satisfied when Sal refused to let the added weight break her form. “You’ve got potential, Shepard.  Keep it up.”

Joss winked at Sal once the Sergeant had moved out of sight. “Kiss ass.”

“Shut it.”

On their rare moments of down time, Sal would dance in their barracks.  Joss played the guitar surprisingly well.  She’d dance with all the other recruits, laughing and sharing drinks with them.  She’d even crashed the mess kitchen to make empanadas a few times.  They’d gotten away with it because several had been _accidentally_ left behind as bribes.

Their entire recruit class had developed a closeness unusual for its depth.  They all got along well and fought well together like a well-oiled machine.  Their instructors had been shocked by how tight-knight the eight had grown over just six months.

The eight consisted of Sal who was already focused on combat medicine.  Then there were the twin brothers, Eric and Edward Black, both combat specialists who could handle any weapon thrown their way.  Joss was their vanguard, disturbingly gifted with her biotics.  Victor Lopez had come from Lima, Peru, and had a particular talent with a sniper rifle. 

Winston Smith and Alice Sato were polar opposites in every aspect except for their skills as engineers.   She had the petite frame and golden skin from her mother who had been from Tokyo.  Winston inherited the height, muscles and dark tones from his father who had been a world heavy weight boxing champion.  Chris Jones was the quietest out of all of them, fitting since he excelled at infiltration.

Sergeant Daniels thought the brass might keep them together after boot camp.  With such a varied group of skills, it would make for an incredibly strong unit.  One of the admirals responsible for Team Delta had taken a particular interest.

Sal had spotted the woman at one of their recent war game exercises.  None of the recruits could figure out why.  She’d finally given her godfather sad puppy dog eyes until he caved in and told her about the potential for them being assigned as a unit to the same fleet.

The eight had taken the news like a challenge to do even better, grow even closer.  Sal had started giving everyone tango lesson.  If they could flow to the music effortlessly,  it should translate to working together in the battlefield.

And it made her giggle.  Winston, in particular, with his six foot six frame of muscles, kept panicking about stepping on her toes.  He did step on them…several times…which _didn’t_ make her laugh at all.

Everyone else busted their guts laughing at her hopping around, moaning in pain.  They were still snickering the next day when Sal limped through their morning jog.  The instructors didn’t find it as amusing.

“Damn it, Winston.” Joss glared at their giant friend. “Did you have to crush Sal’s itty bitty feet?”

“Yes.” He dodged the biotic pulse thrown his way. “It’s not my fault they made us run an extra mile. You fucking hyenas wouldn’t stop laughing.”

“Which is your fault.” Chris added his two cents before heading down the hall toward the showers. “Get your asses in gear. We’ve got an hour before we’re supposed to gear up for our final test.”

It felt markedly different than all their previous war games.  Almost like the instructors wanted to put the developing bond between the group to the greatest test.  They had to pull together to pass—and survive.

The path the eight were one required them to traverse a rapidly moving, knee-deep raging river.  Both Sal and Alice had lost their footing several times being the shortest in the group.  The twins dove in several times to save them from being dragged under by all their gear.

Chris pulled his skills as a country boy out to build a fire.  They warmed up while plotting their next course of action.  Sal remembered her godfather’s words of advice from hours earlier, “Plot your moves purposefully, don’t waste time or energy, if you can manage something in five hours, do it. Don’t take seven.”

Their end goal was to rescue a hostage from a small building sent in the middle of a forest.  They’d been dropped at the edge of it six hours earlier.  They had ten more hours before time ran out.

Ten hours.

If they could find the hostage and survive to the extraction point in less than six hours, they’d have the speed record. Winston had a thing about first place. A big thing about it.

Sal and Victor had spent massive amounts of energy keeping Winston on the rails.  Rushing could sot them the entire test.  Graduating was more important than a damn record, but…it would be nice to have it.

Uncle Steven would be proud.

She leaned over Edward’s back to peer down at the map on his omni-tool. “Two teams. One watches the perimeter, the other extracts the hostage.  We meet up on the north side of the path—just there—since it leads out to the extraction point, not the quickest route, but harder for them to follow us.  I say we wait an hour until sundown then we use the darkness to our advantage.”

“And…”

Joss elbowed Winston in the side. “It leaves a shit ton of time to get your fucking record.”

“ _Fine._ ”

They’d assumed the hostage would be an instructor, or another soldiers or at least a human analogue.  It would be the logical choice.  They’d prepared for it so when Sal along with the three who’d come with her entered the room, they learned an important lesson about making assumptions.

It wasn’t a robot, instructor, or any other sort of two-legged individual.  The hostage turned out to be a boisterous and energetic puppy—a surprisingly large one.  He would _definitely_ be a handful to get to the extraction point.

“This complicates things.” Victor being the largest of the four rescue group hefted the dog into his arms.  He promptly received a vigorous puppy face wash.  “ _Thanks._ ”

“Shit.” Sal found herself regretting all the times she’d harassed her godfather for a pet.  “Shit in triplicate.”

“He’s cute.” Joss gave the mutt a scratch behind his ears. “I vote Winston lugs the giant furry thing around.”

“Agreed.”

When they finally met up with the group watching from the woods, Winston didn’t seem as thrilled with the new plan.  His impressive string of curses told them exactly how he felt about the slobbering, wriggling pup in his arms.  He took off in the general direction of the extraction point, grumbling under his breath.

The two hour trek took far longer than anticipated.  Puppies liked to explore, piss everywhere and try to eat everything.  They also whined at the worst moments.  Sal had all but sworn off animals an hour in.

Bedraggled was the best word to describe the group when they arrived at the safe zone.  Their instructors—the ones not tracking them through the woods to attempt to stop them—stood waiting, laughing their asses off.  Sal briefly contemplated smearing dog shit into their faces.

Joss caught her by the arm. “No.”

“But…” Sal whined.

“No.”

“Spoilsport.” Sal exchanged playful shoves before glaring at a familiar figure standing with Sergeant Daniels.  She jogged over to the officers. “Admiral Hackett.”

“Recruit.” Her godfather’s eyes twinkled with laughter though his face was as stern as ever. “Congratulations with not only passing, but breaking the record for speed.”

“You’re still an awful godfather, _sir._ ” 

“You can keep the dog.” Hackett threw out what was clearly his ace in the hole.

“I shall call him admiral, and leave him in your quarters for hours at a time.” Sal dodged away from her godfather to run laughing over to her fellow recruits. “Hide me.”

Admiral—the dog—ended up becoming the Parris Island mascot.  Sergeant Daniels promised to take good care of him.  Her godfather still hadn’t quite forgiven her for the puppy’s name.

Sal figured they were even, or close enough to it anyway.  It hadn’t always been easy during training to be the goddaughter and ward of the youngest admiral in Alliance history.  She’d felt pressure to overachieve, something she’d never worried about in the past.

Her seven buddies drifted apart initially post boot camp.  They had specialized training to undergo.  Sal found herself working with the medical corps, perfecting the skills she’d learned in university. 

It was over two years before the Alliance brass brought the eight back together again.  The next twelve months that followed were filled with intensive training drills.  They had almost no downtime.  It put the entire unit on edge.

“This is bullshit.” Eric threw another log on the fire. They’d skipped out on a scheduled lecture on tactics to head to Elysium and now sat around a small fire contemplating their options. “It’s bullshit. We know training is important.  But they could at least tell us what the fuck is going on.”

“Instead of treating us like some kind of experiment.” Edward took a drink from the scotch bottle than handed it to his twin. “Sick of fucking admirals.”

“And captains.”

“And sergeants.”

“Fucking officers.” Eric finally finished for his twin. “We have rights.”

“You sound like twits.” Joss threw a marshmallow at Eric who caught it and tossed it in his brother’s mouth. “So how do we get them to stop treating us like lab rats and give us an actual mission?”

The sound of gunshots and several explosions broke them out of their thoughts.  A second series of blasts had the eight marines up and racing for the colony.  Joss and Winston immediately began hacking into the local communication systems to see what was going on.

“Chris?” Sal pulled him over to the side while the others talked strategy. “Can you get up to the top of the tower over there?  You might get a better look at where specifically the attack is happening.  It won’t do us a damn bit of good to have to do a door to door search or some other bullshit.”

“Sal?” Alice waved her over once Chris had started to climb.  Sal left Eric and Edward to watch over him. “The colony security chief has sent out an emergency message to the Alliance. There’s some kind of blockade though.  It might take them an hour or two to get here.  I’ve sent a message to the security team to let them know they aren’t alone.  There is no way a resort colony has the sort of defences to keep this sort of attack at bay for much longer.”

“Where’s the weak spot?” Sal crouched down to look at the layout of the colony Alice had pulled out.  She almost immediately saw the greatest weakness and pointed it out to the others.  “This is where the explosions came from.  They’re going to attempt to funnel themselves in through there.”

“They’ve already started.” Chris joined them, huffing and puffing from his climb. “Not fucking doing that again without climbing gear.”

“Piss yourself again?” Winston teased him.  They all remembered the trouble Chris had with heights during training.  He dodged out of the way of the punch set his direction. “That a yes or a no?”

“Settle down.” Victor snapped at both of them when they started to get rowdy. “Vacation is over.”

Sal glanced around at her friends. They all had service knives with them, but no other weapons.  They hadn’t stopped to bring gear with them when bailing on the lecture. “Does the local security have an armoury?”

“Of sorts, I wouldn’t expect much.” Alice scanned the map until the right building was highlighted. “It’s there.”

“Anything would be better than trying to bludgeon batarians with rocks.” Joss looked as concerned as Sal felt. “What are we waiting for?”

“Send a message to the security chief.  Tell him to have whoever he has available focus on keeping civilians safe.  We’ll raid the armoury then try to breach the gap the mercs are creating.” Sal didn’t like their odds even with weapons, but they had to try. “Uncle Steven’s going to kick my ass when he finds out about this.”

“Now she’s worry about it.” Victor shook his head.  “We ready?”

Yet another explosion wiped all the playfulness out of the eight marines.  Sal met Joss’s eyes.  They nodded to each other then smiled wryly.  She could always hope Uncle Steven would focus on being proud of their efforts instead of immediately moving to rip into all of them.

_Wishful thinking._

It was a bitter fight.  Hours of going up against a group of mostly batarians who were larger in number and far more heavily geared than the marines.  At times, Sal thought for certain they would be over run.

She’d set Victor up on a balcony which provided him with ample coverage, but allow him to take pot-shots at the bastards.  Winston and Alice took up positions on opposing sides, one working to interrupt the communications of the enemy while the other constantly updated the entire group on movements.  The remaining five focused all their energies on killing all of the incoming forces.  Chris periodically made runs to the armoury for ammo and grenades. 

Just when Sal believed they couldn’t hold out any longer, shuttles started landing behind and around them. _The cavalry._  She ignored the cheers from the twins and stayed focused on the remaining enemies.  It was always the last mile which was the most dangerous.

Somehow they managed to make it through without any injuries aside from bruises Victor got by being an idiot and jumping from the balcony.  He’d landed with a thud sending the rest of the unit into fits of laughter.  They were still chuckling when a cluster of admirals found them.

“ _Shit._ ” Chris echoed the thoughts of all eight of them. “We’re fucked.”

Two hours later, Sal sat with her seven friends in the conference room of an Alliance cruiser. They were still being lectured for skipping out on their training. 

Sal was tired and stinky.  They all were.  The officers didn’t seem to realize after _hours_ and _hours_ of fighting, the eight might need a shower and food. 

“This is bullshit.” Joss slunk into her chair and kept her voice low. “They could at least thank us for not letting the mercs take out a colony.  I mean…we didn’t screw _that_ up at least.”

“Ahh, logic, the Achilles heel of any _superior_ Alliance officer.” Alice leaned over to throw her own thoughts into the mix. “I’d guess they have no idea how to punish us for skipping out while rewarding us for saving Elysium.”

“Perhaps it’s too complex for their admiral brains?” Winston snarked.

“Something to share Smith?” Admiral Ahern stopped mid-sentence to focus his attention on them. “Are we wasting your time?”

Sal covered Joss’s mouth before she said something stupid. “We’ve had a long day, sir.  With all due respect, you’ve all said the exact same thing four times in the last hour.  Could we perhaps have some water and a protein bar? Maybe use of a shower so we don’t smell like rotten varren.”

A long silence followed her calm request.  Sal thought she caught a glimpse of amusement and respect in Ahern’s eyes.  It was hard to tell since the man was almost as hard to read as her godfather tended to be.

It had genuinely surprised Sal when Hackett hadn’t been on the first shuttle landing.  She wondered why he hadn’t shown up with the others.  He hadn’t even been mentioned by the other admirals.

_Weird, worryingly so._

“You’re dismissed for now.” Ahern gave them all a stern glare. “We’ll expect you back here at 0600.  Get some food, get some rest, and more importantly, get the hell out of my sight before I change my mind.”

“Oh joy, another round of verbal spanking to look forward. Remind me to spike my coffee in the morning.” Joss thankfully waited until they were out of the room and out of hearing range to start whinging about admirals. “Assholes. You’d think we’d gone AWOL to drink beer and take a fucking nap.”

“We did.” Alice jogged up to walk beside them; the boys had already ducked into the men’s showers. “Whatever our reasons and however right they might’ve been, we didn’t bail to save Elysium.  We went for a break.  Yes, we saved the colonists, but you can’t say the admirals don’t have a reason to be pissed off at us.”

“Yes, I can. I might be wrong, but they could fucking say good job.” Joss wisely moved to the privacy of a nearby shower stall the second they were in the bathroom to strip down to shower.

The luxury of a hot shower washed away all of the grime of battle and a lot of the cranky tempers.  Sal and Joss threw wet towels at each other after dressing since Alice always took a good ten minutes longer.   She finally came out in a clean uniform much to Sal’s stomach’s relief.

“I need food.”

The eight came together in the hallway to retrace their steps and head down to the mess on the ship.  They raided the fridge, clearing it out of a fairly large amount of leftovers from dinner.  It didn’t take long for the group to start feeling better with fuller stomachs.

They slept in the mess, surrounded by beer bottles, plates and crumbs.  Sal woke up to find her upper body in Victor’s lap and her legs draped across Edward’s.  Every part of her body hurt, well ached more than hurt.

Getting up carefully, Sal tiptoed away to the Medbay.  She wanted painkillers immediately.  It would not only reduce the aches, but hopefully prevent her from losing her temper later when they were being verbally thrashed again.

“ _Morning._ ”

Sal grimaced at the icy tone in her godfather’s voice.  He sounded completely ticked off, never a good sign.  She focused on finding the aspirin and _not_ turning around to see if he was as angry as he sounded. “Uncle Steven.”

“You might be the first unit of marines to be awarded medals for bravery before being court-martialed for insubordination.” Hackett caught her by the shoulders to turn her around.  Sal was relieved to see he appeared more amused than anything else. “Were you hurt? Ahern wouldn’t give me a straight answer on injuries.  He seemed to think if any of you had gotten banged it that it was deserved.”

“Not really.” Sal did a little salsa dance in front of him. “See? Perfectly fine.”

“And the pain medication you’re clutching in your hands?”

“Pre-emptive for all the shouting that is sure to commence soon.” She glanced over at the clock on the wall and groaned.  They had less than ten minutes before they were supposed to be in the conference room. “I should go.  There’s barely enough time to grab coffee and everyone else is still snoring.”

“Allow me.”

Before Sal could stop him, her uncle pulled up his omni-tool and set off the loudest, shrieking alarm Sal had ever heard.  Her friends bolted to their feet.  They stumbled around with bleary eyes while she covered her ears and laughed.

_Five years later…_

“My hands are tied, Sal.” Her godfather sounded apologetic and exhausted. He also appeared completely done with the conversation. They’d been arguing for over an hour. “What more do you want from me?”

“Fix this.” Sal snapped angrily at him. “This isn’t right. They’re fucking over my entire unit. For what? What do they gain from this? We did nothing wrong.”

“You have your orders.” Hackett winced when she threw the datapad he’d handed to her so hard across the room it embedded in the wall behind him. “ _Salvadora._ You will control your temper.  I taught you better.”

She titled her head to the side to study him. “You taught me better? You showed me how to serve the Alliance with honour.  If I take this _promotion_ , I would be shitting all over everything I’ve worked so hard to become.”

“ _Sal._ ”

She reached into her shirt to grab her dogtags, yanking them from around her neck.  She dropped them on his desk with a sneer of disgust. “You can take my promotion and assignment to the _Normandy_.  You can tell the admiralty to kiss my Argentinian ass.  Have a good day, _Uncle_ Steven.”

Riding the elevator down to the nearest skycar terminal, Sal thought about how things had gotten so screwed up.  It had been a long year since the eight had graduated as N7s.  They’d believed good things would be on the horizon for their unit—they’d been wrong.

As an eight marine strike team, ‘Sally’s Soldiers’ had earned a reputation amongst the Alliance.  They’d been given the task of investigating who had been behind an assassination attempt on several members of the president’s cabinet.  They’d had no idea at the time it would be a set up.

A fucking set up.

They’d walked into a political quagmire.  Not only had the assassination been a smoke screen for building a case for removing the president for misuse of Alliance resources, it had left her unit being accused of duplicity. There had been nothing they could do to prove otherwise.

Sal had thought things couldn’t get worse, and then she had learned only seven of her unit would be tossed from the Alliance.  They’d stripped all of them of their ranks, reputations and medals.  She had been fucking promoted.

She’d been infuriated.  No one wanted to hear the truth.  She had fought for months to get hearings set up for her team.

The _Normandy_ assignment had obviously been intended to bribe Sal into silence.  She refused.  The trip to her godfather’s office had been her last attempt, but screw it.

“Sal?” Victor waited for her by the skycar terminal.  He’d been willing to risk another confrontation with the Alliance so Sal wouldn’t have to be alone.  The whole team had wanted to come, but it would’ve been too much of a risk. “Hey? Sal? You okay?”

“I’m done with the Alliance.” She shoved him into the skycar and hopped in after him. “Just fucking done.”

“Can you be done with the Alliance?” He slid in the seat when she took off at an angle. “I’d prefer to make it back to the docks in one piece.”

“The Alliance is done with you. So I’m done with them.” Sal glared at him when he started to argue. “We’ll meet everyone in Buenos Aires and start making plans.”

Remaining quiet once they’d found a transport bound for earth, Sal found her thoughts drifting around randomly.  Victor sat beside her with one hand resting lightly on her leg.  He was good at waiting patiently—snipers usually were.

The touch brought her thoughts to sex and relationships.  The former had _never_ been a true interest of Sal’s.  She’d never had it, never intended to do so.  Love had also not been in the plans, at least not the romantic kind.

She felt love for her friends and family, but never romantically.  The rest of her team had all been in and out of relationships with one another or with people outside of the Alliance.  She’d been happy to watch them all with an almost clinical curiosity.

It had been a surprise when Victor asked her out on a date for the first time.  Sal had said no.  The decline had been easy; explaining why had been confusing for both of them.   He’d claimed not to need an explanation, but she’d wanted her friend to understand.

Sal finally ended up shouting out that sex would never been on the agenda for her since she found it pointless and gross.  Victor had snorted in amusement at her.  He’d then claimed spaghetti, not a fuck in the closet, had been on his mind.

They’d laughed about it for a while.  Sal went on the non-date with him.  They’d gone on many more dates until she’d said no again.  She couldn’t believe he’d be satisfied with never having sex.

Victor had shrugged indifferently about it.  He had a hand, didn’t he? Sal had dumped her bowl of cereal over his head for that comment.

She didn’t really know for certain when they’d become a couple.  It just happened.  True to his word, Victor had never once seemed even remotely bothered by her asexuality.  

“Sal?”

She blinked a few times, trying to clear her mind. “Yeah?”

“What _exactly_ did you do back there?” Victor touched a finger to her bare neck. “It’s not a job. You can’t _quit_ the Alliance.”

“Why not?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Have any ideas on what we should do now?  Eight former marines without the support of the Alliance.  Reminds me of one of those soppy novels Chris reads.”

“I’m telling him you called them soppy.” Sal dodged out of the way of his fingers when he tried to tickle the sensitive spot on the back of her neck. “Isn’t there a mercenary group started by former Alliance soldiers?  Why don’t we do the same?”

“You want to be a merc?”

“We’re not going to pillage and rampage across colonies if that’s what you’re worried about.” Sal elbowed Victor in the side when he snickered at her. “I know, I know, I’ve got to stop watching those old movies with the twins.”

“Chris can create new identities for all of us.” Victor stretched out his long legs in front of them. “All those hacking skills from his youth should come in handy.  We don’t want the Alliance to be able to track us.  Well, you mostly, they won’t care about the seven they’ve already tossed out.”

Sal tilted her head to rest against his shoulder. “Good idea.  Don’t let him pick names for us. They’ll be stupid.”

“Duly noted.” Victor shifted down to give her a better place to rest. “What about your godfather?”

“Fuck him.” Sal grumbled half-heartedly. “No, I don’t know what to think.  He claimed his hands were tied.  He could’ve at least tried though, right?”

“Maybe the admiral fought for us, but could only save you?” Victor always had an amazing ability to be logical when Sal didn’t quite want to be. “He has to walk a fine line between family and the Alliance.  I wouldn’t be too quick to judge him.”

Sal shrugged.  She had nothing more to say about her godfather.  What could she say? _Nothing._

They arrived in Buenos Aires to find their friends had holed up in an apartment in a not so pleasant part of the city.  It would be the last place anyone would look for them.  Well, anyone other than Hackett, her godfather would likely start his search for her in her hometown.

Great minds appeared to think alike because Chris had already started to work on their new identification issues.  Alice and the twins had been focus on supplies.  And by supplies, they meant weapons and a ship.

_A ship?_

“Who the hell would give us a ship?” Sal grabbed a slice of pizza from the box on the table then dropped onto the couch beside Joss. “Well?”

“Remember my uncle?”

“The one you sent the box of varren shit to? The one with the massive scars?” Sal had laughed herself silly when Joss had sent the gift. “What about him?”

“He has a bone to pick with the blue suns, so he gave me a coordinates to one of their supply depots on earth.  It’s hidden in Egypt in the desert.  If we plan it right, we can get weapons, credits and a shuttle.  We think we can make the most difference on earth since the mercs are starting to attempt to take over certain cities using gang.” Joss leaned over Alice to grab a couple beers from a nearby cooler.  She tossed one to Sal. “He also mentioned one of his safe houses up in the mountains in Austria.  We could use it as a base.  It used to be a war bunker centuries ago.”

“A base?”

“Yep.”

“All right then.” Sal had learned not to argue when Joss had good ideas, or when she thought they had good ideas.

Over the course of the next twelve months, the eight former marines dodged Alliance investigators while building their weapons cache. They turned the small base hidden in the mountains into a slightly more substantial compound of sorts.  A lot of the renovations had been done by their own hands—with a lot of trial and error.

_Well, mostly error._

Sal and Joss still giggled over the attempt the twins had made at putting together a pre-fab trailer.  It had collapsed on them.  Winston had taken over at that point since his mother’s family had run a construction company for centuries.  He’d worked there every summer during his last years in school.

The instructions claimed the pre-fab trailers would be idiot proof.  They’d obviously never met Eric and Edward.  Winston had not been as amused as everyone else.

It had taken almost the entire year to fully put a proper foundation together.  They’d made runs on several different Blue Suns outposts.   The results were they had an impressive cache of weapons and other supplies along with two shuttles plus a third for parts.  The time had also allowed them to think more clearly about what they intended to accomplish without the restrictions of being Alliance marines.

With the Alliance all but ignoring the issue of gangs, dust and violence in the slums all across the planet, Sal thought it was time to start disrupting the drug runners.  She had strong feelings about gang violence since it had cost her the lives of her grandparents.  The others had readily agreed with her that it would be a good place to start.

She’d been ignoring messages from Hackett.  Her temper hadn’t calmed at all with regards to him.  She understood it wasn’t his fault, but it still felt like a betrayal.

Sal wanted to start at home, seeking revenge for the deaths of her beloved family.  Victor and Joss had finally talked her out of it.  Buenos Aires was being heavily watched by the Alliance now.

Buenos Aires would come later.  They’d promised.  Sal could wait.

_Maybe._

A year and a half later, many of the gangs started moving to the Terminus systems.  The groups found it increasingly difficult to ‘engage in nefarious activities’ as Winston liked to refer to them.  The group had made monumental inroads in clearing up the dust problem in many cities.

They’d also been named a rogue militant group; warrants for their arrest had been issued for taking the law into their own hands.  The Alliance’s attempts to catch them were hampered by the fact that local cities and civilians greatly appreciated their work.   Sal found it hilarious.

Just as Sal wanted to return home, human colonists began disappearing.  No survivors or evidence was left behind at any of the colonies attacked.  The Alliance, as usual, seemed unwilling to do more than offer lip service.

The eight talked together about perhaps making plans to work their own investigation into the disappearances.   Joss’ uncle intervened once again to let them know Cerberus had brought together a mixed group of inter-species operatives to investigate the matter.  _Interesting._ No one trusted the organization, but they agreed to monitor the situation.

They weren’t in a position to really launch a full scale anything yet.  Sal finally decided it was time to deal with the bastards who killed her grandparents.  She refused to get distracted from it for the hundredth time.

The collectors and missing colonists were far out of rich.  Two bit criminals hiding in slums were not.  They would receive punishment at the end of her file.

Within six months, Sal had seen the last of the Buenos Aires branch of the Devils gang sent to jail or the grave.  Vengeance exacted.  She felt no relief at it being over.  It hadn’t brought back her grandparents or anyone else who had been murdered in the intervening years.

Agreeing with Alice’s suggestion for a holiday, they had all returned to the Alps.  Joss and Sal had immediately grabbed beers and popcorn to watch a biotiball game while the others started what would be an epic video game tournament, something they did often during down time.  They’d all needed to distress.

Ten minutes from half-time, ANN cut into the live game broadcast with breaking news.  An invasion.  _The invasion._   Joss raced into the other room to drag the others in to join them.  They watched horrified while these reaper creatures began attacking major cities across the earth.

Holed up in the mountains, Sal could only listen to the limited reports coming in from different reporters over an emergency broadcast system the Alliance had set up with growing horror.  What could they do? They had to do something to help at least some of the millions of people at risk.

From the solemn faces of everyone around her, Sal knew they all realized anything they did would barely be a drop in the bucket.  Eight former marines had no chance against a full scale invasion.  It would take massive military intervention to halt the tide of monsters taking the planet.

She had immediately understood why the Alliance had retreated out of the Sol system.  Survival of their species would rely on more than the forces on earth.  She quietly said a prayer to her godfather who would be at the centre of everything.

Munich was the logical first run for them.  It was the closest and largest city to their hidden compound.  The other reason to go there as opposed to perhaps Salzburg was the large Alliance presence.  They hoped to find survivors with military training.

Rescuing civilians would be good, but realistically, Sal knew the more soldiers would make future rescue attempts easier.  They took one shuttle, not wanting to risk everything and everyone on the first trip.  The twins, Winston and Alice stayed behind to begin opening up more of the underground bunker to hopefully house and _hide_ more survivors.

Sal wasn’t holding her breath.  The reapers didn’t appear to be interesting in preserving human life.  Anyone who survived the initial invasion might wish they hadn’t given what she recalled from the attack on the Citadel two years or so ago. 

“What can the four of us do?” Chris stared mournfully out at the ruined outskirts of Munich.  They had crossed into the city limits as stealthy as possible. “Look at this.”

“Something is better than doing jack shit.  Better than waiting to die.” Sal prepped their weapons carefully, ensuring they each had at least one or two spare ammo packs. “We need to buy time for the Alliance to return.”  

“Now we trust them?” Joss snorted.

“Any hope is better than none at all.” Victor set the shuttle down carefully behind a wall which had once stood around the Alliance armoury in the city. “We’re detecting at least ten heat signatures on the scanner.”

“Let’s hope they are people,” Chris muttered.  He stared at the still closed shuttle door for a moment. “Well, might as well get our asses out there.”

Leaving Chris with the shuttle in case a quick exit turned out to be necessary, the others made their way inside.  Sal took point with Victor on her left and Joss on her right.  They moved cautiously through each room, clearing the building methodically.

It was disheartening to see all the empty rooms.  Signs of rapidly abandoned posts were everywhere.  It looked post-apocalyptic and terrifying.

Hopping over several crates that had been dragged into the hallway, Sal came face to face with a group of six marines, all holding weapons in her direction.   They looked tired and shell-shocked.  She had a feeling they’d come up close and personal with hell on earth.

Sal lowered her own rifle in the hopes the building tension would start to dissipate. “I’m Salvadora Shepard, former Alliance commander.  We’ve got a shuttle outside.  How many of you are left?”

“Sally’s Soldiers? Thought you all told the Alliance to fuck off.” One of the marines stepped forward.  He looked familiar under the greying beard and dirt covered face.

“Major Daniels?” Sal blinked in shock at their old drill sergeant. “Good to see you .  We might’ve told the assholes trying to screw us to fuck off, but we’ve got nothing against the rest of the Alliance.”

Daniels nodded in obvious approval. “Aside from the six of us, there are four more marines and two injured civilians. Think your shuttle can manage all of us? Have you heard anything from outside of the city?  Our communication went dead hours ago.  Is everyone dead?”

“Maybe. Nothing. No idea.” Joss answered all of the questions succinctly, dodging swats from both Sal and Victor. “What? We don’t have time for this shit.  Let’s get the injured and get all our asses out of here.”

“She has a point.” Sal grinned at Daniels who glared at both of them. “Did you miss us?”

“No.”

“So we can leave him here, more room in the shuttle.” Joss managed to get laughs out of the marines.

After telling Chris to move the shuttle closer, Sal followed Major Daniels down the hall through several rooms into what had clearly been a vault of sorts, maybe a safe-room.  They found the other soldiers carefully guarding the two civilians who turned out to be young children, a six year old and a ten year old.  The sadness on their faces broke her heart.

By some miracle, they fit everyone into the shuttle without any interference form reaper forces.  Sal lifted the youngest of the children carefully into her arms, siting at the back of the Kodiak.  They looked like siblings though neither child spoke.

“How much have they told you?” Victor leaned closer to Daniels, but Sal could still here so the children likely could as well. “What happened to their parents?”

“We haven’t heard them speak at all.” Daniels shook his head, waiving off any further questions from Victor. “The ANN broadcasts couldn’t even come close to showing the true horrors that happened during the initial invasion.  I haven’t seen so much carnage in all my years as an officer, not even during the First Contact War.  We need to contact Alliance command.”

Sal tilted her head to lean against the side of the shuttle.  She didn’t want to think about her godfather. All her fury at him had evaporated the instant the implications of the reapers really hit her.  He could die—they could _all_ be killed.

“Sal?” Joss forced the marine out of his seat so she could sit next to her. “This is some fucked up shit.”

Sal covered the ears of the little girl in her arms. “Watch your fucking language.”

Joss snorted in amusement. “Hey Daniels, how come you didn’t cover killing massive bugs in bootcamp? We could’ve used that shit more than the hundred push-ups.”

Major Daniels glared at her, stopping his conversation with Victor and several of the other marines. “And somehow, I continue to feel the urge to order you to do more.”

Joss flipped him off. “Yeah, I still feel the urge to tell anyone in a uniform to go fuck themselves.”

“ _Joss._ ” Victor got to his feet, planting a hand on the roof of the shuttle to keep his balance with Chris’ somewhat stable flying. “If we want to have even the smallest chance of surviving, we are _all_ going to have to work together.  You can indulge in this spat later.”

Grinning at the verbal spanking, Sal set the child into Joss’ arms to prevent further issues.  She made her way up to sit beside Chris in the co-pilot seat.  Her mind had already started to work on plans for the next hours, days and weeks. 

How many other pockets of survivors could they find within easy distance with their shuttles? 

First things first though, Sal knew they would need supplies to support however many they found.  The underground bunkers could probably fit upwards of fifty people, more if they packed them all in tightly.  They didn’t have enough food to last more than a week or so.

_Supplies first._

After a whispered conversation with Victor and Chris, Sal pulled Daniels to the side once they arrived at the compound.  It didn’t take much convincing to get him to map out all the supply depots in Munich.  _Food. Weapons. Fuel._   All things that would be required to attempt to survive until the cavalry returned.

Over the course of the next two weeks, Sal went on over twenty raids into the cities within a hundred miles of their growing hide-out.  Communication remained an issue.  They hadn’t managed to get even an ANN report or an emergency signal sent out. 

_Nothing._

Hopelessness started to set in for Sal, no matter how hard she tried to keep her spirits up.  Victor had been a rock of support for her.   They’d managed to sneak time alone together here and there, important for their sanity.

In quieter moments, Sal managed to find some of her favourite dancing music on her omni-tool.  She taught the children the basics of samba.  It made them giggle which brought smiles to the adults.  A small bright moment that everyone clung to desperately.

Major Daniels managed to keep all of them focused and determined to win, or at least go out fighting.  Of all the higher ranking officers in the Alliance, he was probably the one best suited for pulling together the ragtag group of renegades former marines and active duty soldiers.  Sal didn’t think they would’ve all worked together as well without him.

Three months after the invasion, the numbers had swelled at their compound to ten civilians along with thirty marines.  It had been fifty marines, but twenty of them had left for London.  Alliance engineers had managed to get an old communications system working and word had come in that forces were gathering at a base in London for some sort of final stand.

They would be leaving in a few days as well.  It had been better to travel in groups rather than all going at the same time and risking drawing attention from the reapers.  A small group would remain behind with the civilians.

Straws had been drawn to decide who would stay.  Victor, Alice and seven of the marines would remain behind.  The rest would join up with the troops in London to hopefully stamp out the bastards once and for all.  They hoped.

“Salvadora.”

“David.” Sal found herself dragged into a hug that about cracked her ribs. She didn’t get a chance to react when Anderson forcibly marched her away from the others into a small relatively undamaged building.  He shoved her in front of a vid-comm terminal. “What the hell? No one can want to talk to me _that_ badly. We’re supposed to be…”

“ _Sal._ ”

She closed her eyes to avoid tears at the painfully evident relief in her godfather’s voice.  She opened them when she was relatively confident tears weren’t an imminent threat.  “Uncle Steven.”

“Sally.”

“Shit godfather.” Sal tried for a laugh and found to her embarrassment she had to choke back a sob of relief at seeing him, even if it was just on the vid-comm. “I’m sorry about, you know, everything.”

“As you should be, though I don’t believe you are actually sorry.” Hackett chuckled at her glare. “I’m sorry for not doing more.”

“Doesn’t matter now.  I missed you.” Sal gave a half-hearted shrug before turning serious. “Don’t die.”

“Keep yourself alive, Sally.” He gave her his usual ‘Hackett out’ and disappeared on her.

“Goodbye to you too.” Sal rolled her eyes then turned to glare at Anderson. “And a warning about this would’ve killed you?”

“Warnings are below my pay grade.”

Sal sighed indignantly at him. “What’s the plan?”

“That’s below your pay grade.” Anderson turned to walk out of the building.

“The Alliance doesn’t pay me.” She jogged to keep up with him, deftly avoiding any attempts to block her path. “You’re going to need us.”

“Salvadora.”

“ _David._ ”

They stared each other down for several tense minutes.  Anderson eventually caved in, stepping to the side to allow her to follow him beyond the medics into a room that had clearly been set-up for planning.  Sal nodded toward the officers gathered around a map on a badly damaged table.

“So? What’s the _big_ plan?” Sal had waited long enough in silence while the Alliance officers whispered to each other. “Well?”

The _plan_ appeared to involve a streamlined attack focused on a beam the reapers had set up.  Major Coats would be using it to get onto the Citadel.  It would coincide with the arrival of the inter-species fleets her godfather had pulled together.

Not the worst idea, but definitely a flawed one.  Sal had a feeling all of the military minds in the room knew this was a shot in the dark.  They’d all reached the end of the rope.

Several hours later, Sal found herself cursing the massive flaws to the Alliance strategy. Coats never made it to the Citadel; she had, along with Anderson.  They’d almost immediately run into an indoctrinated man—the Illusive Man.

He’d shot Anderson, and then Sal.

Sal had shot him.

Now bleeding out, Sal managed to set off the device which would hopefully destroy the reapers.  She collapsed on the floor with a groan and had a spectacular view of one of the greatest fireworks shows she’d ever seen.  They’d won.

It took thirteen tries to get a response over the comms.  Jeff Moreau from the _Normandy_ picked up her signal and helped to patch her through to Victor who had found his way back to the Forward Operating Base.  He was the only one who would respond.

“Sal? You there? You did it.” Victor sounded far too excited. “Sal?”

“Yeah.” She coughed several times, spitting blood when it gathered in her mouth. “Remember all those plans we had for when the Alliance stopped trying to arrest us?”

“Food stalls and dancing?”

“Might not make it.”

Victor breathed in deeply enough she could hear it clearly. “Why not?”

“Ran out of medi-gel.” Sal had pressed her hand to the wound on her side hadn’t done much beyond delaying what felt like the inevitable. “Remember when we used omni-gel for everything?”

“What do you need medi-gel for?”

“Might’ve gotten shot.” She shifted slightly to find a better position and closed her eyes while taking shallow breaths. “I’m imagining us dancing the tango, love dancing with you.  Think they dance in heaven?”

“ _Sal_.”

“Love you. Dance for me, yeah? And tell Hackett that he’s still a shit godfather.” She could barely keep her eyes open. Her eyelids felt so incredibly heavy like Eric and Edward were sitting on them. “I love him.  Keep Joss from doing something stupid.”

Dying saving the world would’ve been dramatic and impressive.  Sal, of course, woke up in a Med Bay two days later with a headache and a new scar on her abdomen.  It seemed a little anti-climactic.

She’d been prepared to die even said her goodbyes.  Living would involve lectures, scowling and disapproval. Her godfather would definitely be doing a lot of the first two.  She wasn’t sure it was worth it.

“I know you’re awake.” Victor’s deep voice broke the quit hum of her hospital room. “So you know this whole dying thing? You’re going to have to stop doing it.”

Sal sat up slowly, surprised to find aside from the headache that she felt fine.  Tired, but fine. “Want to dance?”

“Here? In your hospital gown?” Victor stood to gently lift her into his arms before she could get up on her own. “If the doctor doesn’t kill me, I’m sure your godfather will for this.”

Sal looped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulders.  She hummed the opening bars to one of her favourite slow songs to dance the tango to.  “How is everyone?”

“Alive.”

 Good.” She brought her legs up around his waist, ignoring the twinge in her still healing side. “Now, shut up and dance.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sal: https://pixelatrix.tumblr.com/post/138501828261
> 
> Victor: https://pixelatrix.tumblr.com/post/140691241561/buffybarnes-nyle-dimarco-by-marco-ovando
> 
> Joss: https://pixelatrix.tumblr.com/post/140691350331
> 
> Winston: https://pixelatrix.tumblr.com/post/140691259811/serpentine913-gael
> 
> Eric and Edward: https://pixelatrix.tumblr.com/post/140691057466
> 
> Alice: https://pixelatrix.tumblr.com/post/146106391456/arimurakasumi-ch
> 
> Chris: https://pixelatrix.tumblr.com/post/146106433981/lovingmalemodels-keith-carlos
> 
> Sergeant Daniels: https://pixelatrix.tumblr.com/post/140691124291/i4caratmind77-love-this-new-pic-stu-gorgeous


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